clear the country. That he did not exaggerate the dangers of the case, has been proved by the horrid scenes of Indian warfare that have since desolated that devoted region. After a night of sleepless cogitation, Duval determined on a measure suited to his prompt and resolute character. Knowing the admiration of the savages for personal courage, he determined, by a sudden surprise, to endeavor to overawe and check them. It was hazarding much; but where so many lives were in jeopardy, he felt bound to incur the hazard. Accordingly, on the next morning, he set off on horseback, attended merely by a white man, who had been reared among the Seminoles, and understood their language and manners, and who acted as interpreter. They struck into a 'trail,' leading to Neama'hla's village. After proceeding about half a mile, Governor Duval informed the interpreter of the object of his expedition. The latter, though a bold man, paused and remonstrated. The Indians among whom they were going were among the most desperate and discontented of the nation. Many of them were veteran warriors, impoverished and exasperated by defeat, and ready to set their lives at any hazard. He said that if they were holding a war council, it must be with desperate intent, and it would be certain death to intrude among them. Duval made light of his apprehensions; he said he was perfectly well acquainted with the Indian character, and should certainly proceed. So saying, he rode on. When within half-a-mile of the village, the interpreter addressed him again, in such a tremulous tone, that Duval turned and looked him in the face. He was deadly pale, and once more urged the Governor to return, as they would certainly be massacred if they proceeded. Duval repeated his determination to go on, but advised the other to return, lest his pale face should betray fear to the Indians, and they might take advantage of it. The interpreter replied that he would rather die a thousand deaths, than have it said that he had deserted his leader when in peril. Duval then told him he must translate faithfully all he should say to the Indians, without softening a word. The interpreter promised faithfully to do so, adding that he well knew, when they were once in the town, nothing but boldness could save them. They now rode into the village, and advanced to the councilhouse. This was rather a group of four houses, forming a square, in the centre of which was a great council-fire. The houses were open in front toward the fire, and closed in the rear. At each corner of the square there was an interval between the houses, for ingress and egress. In these houses sat the old men and the chiefs; the young men were gathered round the fire. Neamathla presided at the council, elevated on a higher seat than the rest. Governor Duval entered by one of the corner intervals, and rode boldly into the centre of the square. The young men made way for him; an old man who was speaking, paused in the midst of his harangue. In an instant thirty or forty rifles were cocked and leveled. Never kad Duval heard so loud a click of triggers: it seemed to strike on his heart. He did not dare, he says, to look again, lest it might affect his nerves; and on the firmness of his nerves every thing depended. The chief threw up his arm. The rifles were lowered. Duval breathed more freely; he felt disposed to leap from his horse, but restrained himself, and dismounted leisurely. He then walked deliberately up to Neamathla, and demanded, in an authoritative tone, what were his motives for holding that council. The moment he made this demand, the orator sat down. The chief made no reply, but hung his head in apparent confusion. After a moment's pause, Duval proceeded: You are "I am well aware of the meaning of this war-council; and deem it my duty to warn you against prosecuting the schemes you have been devising. If a single hair of a white man in this country falls to the ground, I will hang you and your chiefs on the trees around your council-house! You cannot pretend to withstand the power of the white men. in the palm of the hand of your Great Father at Washington, who can crush you like an egg-shell! You may kill me: I am but one man; but recollect, white men are numerous as the leaves on the trees. Remember the fate of your warriors whose bones are whitening in battle-fields. Remember your wives and children who perished in swamps. Do you want to provoke more hostilities? Another war with the white men, and there will not be a Seminole left to tell the story of his race.' Seeing the effect of his words, he concluded by appointing a day for the Indians to meet him at St. Marks, and give an account of their conduct. He then rode off, without giving them time to recover from their surprise. That night he rode forty miles to Apalachicola river, to the tribe of the same name, who were in feud with the Seminoles. They promptly put two hundred and fifty warriors at his disposal, whom he ordered to be at St. Marks at the appointed day. He sent out runners, also, and mustered one hundred of the militia to repair to the same place, together with a number of regulars from the army. All his arrangements were successful. Having taken these measures, he returned to Tallahassee, to the neighborhood of the conspirators, to show them that he was not afraid. Here he ascertained through Yellow-Hair, that nine towns were disaffected, and had been concerned in the conspiracy. He was careful to inform himself, from the same source, of the names of the warriors in each of those towns who were most popular, though poor, and destitute of rank and command. When the appointed day was at hand for the meeting at St. Marks, Governor Duval set off with Neamathla, who was at the head of eight or nine hundred warriors, but who feared to venture into the fort without him. As they entered the fort, and saw troops and militia drawn up there, and a force of Apalachicola soldiers stationed on the opposite bank of the river, they thought they were betrayed, and were about to fly; but Duval assured them they were safe, and that when the talk was over, they might go home unmolested. A grand talk was now held, in which the late conspiracy was discussed. As he had foreseen, Neamathla and the other old chiefs threw all the blame upon the young men. "Well," replied Duval, "with us white men, when we find a man incompetent to govern those under him, we put him down, and appoint another in his place. Now as you all acknowledge you cannot manage your young men, we must put chiefs over them wae can." So saying, he deposed Neamathla first; appointing another in his place; and so on with the rest; taking care to substi tute the warriors who had been pointed to him as poor and popular; putting medals round their necks, and investing them with great ceremony. The Indians were surprised and delighted at finding the appointments fall upon the very men they would themselves have chosen, and hailed them with acclamations. The warriors thus unexpectedly elevated to command, and clothed with dignity, were secured to the in terests of the governor and sure to keep an eye on the disa fected. As to the great chief Neamathla, he left the country in disgust, and returned to the Creek Nation, who elected him a chief of one of their towns. Thus by the resolute spirit and prompt sagacity of one man, a dangerous conspir acy was completely defeated. Governor Duval was afterward enabled to remove the whole nation, through his own personal influence, without the aid of the General Government. TO THYRZA. HOPE AND BEAUTY. When hearts, which in life's youth were fondly nearest, A picture lovelier or a time more holy Beneath yon blue, broad bound less canopy? Unseen by each by both is rendered bright. No part of our creation's horoscope- NAPOLEON ON HORSEBACK, REVISITING THE SCENES OF HIS EARLY BATTLES. Engraved on Wood by Butler. NAPOLEON'S SECOND CROWN. Napoleon was now about to assume a second crown. A deputation from the Italian republic waited on him, on the 17th of March, and intimated to him by Melzi, their VicePresident, the unanimous desire of their countrymen that he, who had been the founder of their republic, should become the monarch of their kingdom. Napoleon accepted the new dignity, declaring, however, that the two crowns of France and Italy should never, except in the present instance, devolve upon the same person; and also, that he himself would only wear that of Italy, until the assured safety of his new subjects should permit him to place it on a younger head. After making the necessary communication to the Senate, Napoleon prepared to set out for Milan, to go through the ceremony of another coronation. that I should one day be master of France? My wishmerely a vague wish: circumstances have done the rest. It is, therefore, wise to look into the future, and that I do. All these little States will insensibly become accustomed to the same laws; and when manners shall be assimilated and enmities extinguished, then there will be an Italy, and I will give her independence. But for that I must have twenty years, and who can count on the future?" Could he who uttered this expression now look out from his sea-beat grave, he would, indeed, have cause to repeat the ejaculation. But, amidst the degradation and gloom of enslaved Italy, he might yet see the faint streaks and gleams of her renovating vigor slowly breaking through the dense, distant, and still heavy horizon. The Emperor, accompanied by the Empress, left Paris, for Milan, on the second of April. On arriving at Troyes, attended only by two or three officers, he visited Brienne. Here, among the scenes of his boyhood, he forgot, for twenty-four hours, the empire of France and the kingdom of Italy. He went over every place, and remembered every one connected with the military school, even to the old servants, whose visIible decay in their advancing years affected him much. Bourrienne describes an interesting interview which he had with the Emperor at Malmaison, at this period, in which his real sentiments as to Italy were freely expressed. "You know," said Napoleon, "that I set out in a week for Italy. I shall make myself king; but that is but a stepping stone. have greater designs respecting Italy. It must be a kingdom, comprising all the transalpine States, from Venice to the maritime Alps. The junction of Italy with France can only be temporary; but it is necessary, in order to accustom the nations of Italy to live under common laws. None of them will now acknowledge the superiority of another; and yet, Rome is, from the recollections connected with it, the natural capital of Italy. To make it so, however, it is necessary that the power of the Pope should be confined within limits purely spiritual. I cannot now think of this; but I will reflect upon it hereafter. At present, I have only vague ideas on the subject, but they will be matured in time; and then, all depends on circumstances. What was it told me, when we were walking, like two idle fellows, as we were, in the streets of Paris, In contemplating a scene fraught with the memories of other days, the changes its external appearance has undergone present themselves forcibly to our feelings, even in the minutest details; but seldom or ever does it occur to us that we ourselves are changed, far more, perhaps, than the walls and streets, the hills and fields, the old tree-trunks and winding lanes. Without including those changes which may, or may not, have transpired in our particular feelings and general tone of thought, how little of the same external appearance often remains in those who notice with pain the absence of certain inanimate things, associated with former years, and who dwell on the slightest changes observable in their visible forms. The Emperor Napoleon-after long absence, employed in rapidly alternating scenes of revolutions, wars, deep the Pope, and remained there some days. They also rested for a short time at Alessandria; and, while there, Napoleon formed the resolution, which he afterwards carried into ef fect, to convert that city into a great military depot and fortified place, of immense strength, for which its natural advan tages afforded every facility. On the route to Milan, the Emperor visited the field of battle on which he had re-conquered Italy five years before. He collected all the troops in that part of the country, to the number of thirty thousand, on the plain of Marengo, and appeared among them on horseback, in the same coat and hat which he had worn in the action, and which—with that strong tendency to experience pleasure in the association of memory, thought, and feeling, with visible and tangible objects, place and time, for which he was remarkable-he had brought from Paris for this express pur pose. It was observed that the moths had paid no more respect to the dress thus suggestive of heroic deeds, than to any common place garment, for it was musty and full of holes: but this did not prevent Napoleon from wearing it. He reviewed the troops, and distributed crosses of the legion of honor, with the same ceremonies which had been observed on the Champ de Mars, and the same return of exthusiastic devotion on the part of the troops. Fresh recollections of Desaix, the friend whom he had lost on this very spot, arose with the scene. He had already erected a monument in the brave who fell at Marengo. He now resolved that the remains of Desaix should be carried to the same spot, and deposited beneath the monument, on the occasion of its solema inauguration, which he intended should take place under the direction of Denon. He gave orders to this effect, and formed a small column of men, chosen from every regiment of Italy, together with a civil deputation of Italians, to carry the bonored remains from Milan to St. Bernard. Savary alone, to whom Napoleon had confided the charge of embalming the body, after the battle, knew where it had since remained: he, therefore, together with Denon, went to the monastery in Milan, which he well recollected, and where, in a sacristy, they found it, "in the same place," says Savary, "and in the same state in which I had left it some years before, after having had it embalmed, then put into a leaden coffin, then into one of copper, and lastly the whole enclosed in a wooden one. Since that time, the remains of General Desaix have reposed on the summit of the Alps." policies, enlarged designs, splendors, and triumphs, and now on his way to the assumption of a second regal diadem-visits the scenes of his early youth, and feels a saddened wonder at every trilling event and local change which has occurred to them during the same interval. The slight-limbed, spare-bodied, diminutive boy at Brienne, with lean and thoughtful face, and long straight hair, bearing-beneath a cold, uncommunicative, solitary habit and demeanor-the secret germ of fiery ardours and concentric will, presented the subject for a portrait such as rarely occurs to task the artist's hand; an adequate representation, perhaps, defying the powers of any single point of view, might have required the several labors of both painters and sculptors, more especially in latter years. Of the early periods, however, no sort of authentic likeness or sketch is probably extant; and we are, therefore, left to imagine, from vague verbal accounts, and from subsequent portraitures, what the face and general expression must have been, of the youth who was destined to revolutionize the greater part of Europe, and change the chronological emblems seated upon so many of her thrones. The next phase in the personal appearance of Napoleon, may be viewed with his first possession of command, and successful display of character and military genius and skill, at the siege of Toulon. We should think that figure in the engraving of " Batterie des Hommes sans Peur," must present a very close approximation to his external appearance at the time. This figure re-hospital of the Great St. Bernard, to the memory of the presents a slight, sharp-cut outline, hard as if shaped from steel-the attenuated bodily substance seeming almost as impermeable—with a set look of will, fixed in its view and purpose, as though it had settled into a metallic defiance of all possible consequences, and seeking by its very spirit (the passionate strength of self-deceiving mortality!) to overcome the destiny which is poured in a hall of death-shot upon the heads of all around, in their frightfully close opposition to the enemy's batteries. Again, we find a change in the personal appearance of Napoleon when he had become General of the army of Italy; but not so much in figure or face as in exprèssion. To the cool self-possession, and settled purpose of look and bearing, for which he was previously remarkable, was added the ease, no less than the distant air of habitual and unquestionable authority, in one who had ceased to lend his hand, except on extraordinary occasions, to the details of war, or open his mind to share its councils. But, without any essential change in physiognomical and general external appear ance, a considerable difference, in a pictorial sense, was presented by Napoleon during the campaign in Egypt. Up to this time, he had worn his hair long; and, if we are to credit the various portraits, in loose ringlets, or careless waves; but the terrible heat of the climate quickly warned him of the disadvantage as to comfort, besides the dangers of a brain fever, and his long locks were forthwith cut close to his head. He ever after wore his hair very short: its subsequent thin quantity, indeed, would lead us to conjecture that the influence of the climate of Egypt had rendered his future appearance, in this respect, involuntary. Napoleon was extremely spare-bodied and sinewy, up to about the age of five or six and thirty; but, after attaining the imperial dignity, his presentiment as to corpulency began to be realized. Nothwith standing this tendency, however, no less unfavorable to symmetry than health, his person was greatly admired by artists, as displaying many fine proportions, especially in the beauty of the hands, and the legs and feet. Of the fine classical character of his head and features, little need be said, as the pictures, and particularly the busts of him, may be considered sufficiently correct data for the studies of physiognomists, and for general judgment; there can be no doubt, however, of the truth of the statements of several who were long accustomed to be near him, under many extraordinary, no less than ordinary circumstances, that of the rapid versatility and marked characters of expression, no painter or sculptor could convey any adequate idea. But of his power, under peculiar circumstances, of " discharging all expression from his face," and thus presenting a pale and solemn blank to the scrutinizer, as On the 8th of May, the Emperor made his third grant en try into Milan. He was received with acclamations, and the greatest demonstrations of joy. The first event of importance after his arrival was the incorporation of Genoa with the French empire, an enlargement of its territory which excited the indignation of all the hostile powers of the continent. This acquisition, like that of the crown of Italy, was made to appear a gift. A deputation, headed by Durazzo, the Doge of Genoa, waited on Napoleon, with a request that he would incorporate the Ligurian republic with his empire. The po litical reasons by which he justified his acceptance of this request, will be found in portions of his reply: "The spread of liberal ideas could alone have given to your government that splendor which encircled it for many years; but I have already attained the conviction that you are unable, alone, to do any thing worthy of your forefathers. Every thing has changed: the new principles of the dominion of the seas which the English have adopted, and forced other nations to adopt; the right of blockade, which they are able to extend at their pleasure, and which is only another term for extinguish ing at their will the commerce of all the people; these cir cumstances offer you nothing but isolation in your indepen dence. Where maritime independence is no longer posses sed by a commercial people, the necessity of ranging them selves under a more powerful flag commences. I will realize your wish. I will unite you with my great people." The union was immediately effected, and the Doge of Genoa be came a Senator of France. The coronation took place in the cathedral of Milan, of something past, an "unknown" sculptor from the antique (which owed its completion to Napoleon) on the 26th of May; would perhaps be the best comparison; while of his habitual, Cardinal Daprara officiating on this occasion, as the Emperor fixed calm, amidst great tumults, the mask, taken from his did not think fit to exact another act of condescension from face after his death, may give, we should imagine, a tolerably the Pope, to whom the near neighborhood of so powerful a correct impression; and one-by its countless associations, no sovereign could not be a matter of gratulation. The iron less than its isolated fact-not easily to be forgotten. crown of the Lombard kings was used on the occasion. Na Proceeding to Lyons, the Emperor and Empress were re-poleon, as he had done at Paris, took it with his own hand ceived with all the magnificence of that rich city, the trade of from the altar, and, placing it on his head, uttered the a which had been raised by Napoleon from something like ruin, pointed form of words with which it was always assumed by could display in their honor. At Turin, they were met by its ancient owners. "God has given it me; let him beware who would touch it." The order of the iron crown, with these words for its motto, arose out of this ceremony. The Emperor remained at Milan till the 10th of June; when (leaving Eugene Beauharnais, now his adopted son, as viceroy) he left the city, and, accompanied by the Empress, proceeded to visit the principal scenes of his former triumphs in Italy. Marshal Jourdan, with forty thousand men, waited his arrival at the camp of Castiglione; and here he made another distribution of crosses of the legion of honor to that division of the army. Proceeding by Peschiera, Verona, and the impregnable Mantua, the Emperor arrived at Bologna. Here the Marquess de Gallo met him, and made, on the part of Naples, fresh solicitations for a neutrality, and protestations of its strict observance. Here also the state of Lucca became, by solicitation, an appendage to the imperial family. Napoleon gave it for sovereign, his eldest sister, the Princess Eliza, afterwards Grand Duchess of Tuscany. She was a woman of strong talents and great energy of disposition; considerably resembling her brother. She had offended him by marrying Bacciochi, a native of Corsica, and only a captain of artillery: but seeing the thing was done, Napoleon promoted her husband, and gave these extensive territories to his sister, to whom he well knew he might safely confide them. Bacciochi shared her honors, but without interfering with her authority. She is acknowledged to have governed both with vigor and beneficence, having carried out important improvements in works of utility, and encouraged education and the arts. She retained her sovereignty until the downfall of the empire. The chief accusations against her are, that she was too fond of luxury, and encouraged a plurality of lovers; so that she acquired the name of the "Semiramis of Lucca." After visiting Turin, where he organized the university, the Emperor and Empress turned towards France, and reached Fontainebleau on the 11th of July; whence they proceeded to Paris. THE TOWER OF LONDON.* A HISTORICAL ROMANCE. BY W. HARRISON AINSWORTH, Author of Crichton,' 'Jack Sheppard,' and 'Rookwood. BOOK THE SECOND....MARY THE QUEEN. hours have you knelt before my father, Henry the Eighth, and have yet failed to turn him from his purpose! I am by nature as jealous-as firm-as obstinate, if you will-as he was.Arise." "No, madam," replied Gardiner, "I will not rise till I have convinced you of your error. Your august father was a prince of high and noble qualities, but the defects that clouded his royal nature would show to double disadvantage in one of your sex. Dismiss all thought of this faithless Earl from your heart,-banish him from your presence, from your kingdom,-nay, keep him in durance if you will, but use no harsh measures against the Princess Elizabeth. Every step taken against her will be fearfully resented by the Protestant party, of which, I need not remind you, she is the representative." "And what matter if it be, my lord?" rejoined Mary. "I am strong enough to maintain my own authority, and shall be right glad of some plea to put down heresy and schism by fire and sword. You are not wont to advocate this cause." "Nor do I advocate it now, madam," returned Gardiner. "All I counsel is prudence. You are not yet strong enough to throw off the mask of toleration which you have hitherto worn. Your first parliament has not yet met. The statutes establishing the Reformed religion are yet unrepealed,―nay, though I shame to speak it, the marriage of your illustrious parents has not yet been confirmed." "You should shame to speak it, my lord," rejoined Mary, fiercely; "for it is mainly by your machinations that the di vorce was obtained." "I own it to my sorrow," replied Gardiner, "but I then owed the same obedience to your illustrious sire that I now owe to your highness. I did your injured mother great wrong, but if I live I will repair it. This, however, is foreign to the subject. Your majesty may believe me when I tell you, your worst enemies could not desire you to take a more injudicious step, or one more fraught with danger to yourself, than to strain your prerogative against Courtenay and Elizabeth." "Were I to assent to your request and set them free," replied Mary, after a moment's reflection, "the first act of the Princess would be to unite herself to this perfidious villain." "I do not think it," replied Gardiner. "But what if she were to do so?" "What!" exclaimed Mary, furiously. "The thought revives all my indignation. Am I so tame of spirit that I can bear to see him whom I have loved united to a rival I hate? No, my lord, I am not. This is no doubtful case. I have heard his treachery with my own ears-seen it with my own de-eyes-and I will terribly avenge myself. Courtenay never again shall behold Elizabeth. He has breathed his last false sigh-uttered his last perjured profession of love-exchanged his last look, unless they meet upon the scaffold. You know not what an injured woman feels. I have the power of avenging myself, and, by my father's head, I will use it! XVII. Of the conspiracy formed by De Noailles; and how Xit livered a letter to Elizabeth, and visited Courtenay in the Lieuten ant's lodgings. sue. As soon as it was known that the Princess Elizabeth and Courtenay were placed under arrest, the greatest consternation prevailed throughout the Tower. While some few rejoiced in the favorite's downfall, the majority deplored it; and "And when you have gratified this fell passion, madam," it was only the idea that when Mary's jealous indignation returned Gardiner, "remorse will succeed, and you will bitsubsided, he would be restored to his former position, that terly regret what you have done. Since nothing better may prevented open expression being given to their sentiments.be-and if you will not nobly, and like yourself, pardon the On being made acquainted with what had occurred, Gardiner offenders-at least reflect before you act. If you persist in instantly sought an audience of the Queen, and without atyour present intention, it will be the duty of all your faithful tempting to defend Courtenay's conduct, he besought her earsubjects to prepare for a rebellion, for such will certainly ennestly to pause before she proceeded to extremities,-representing the yet unsettled state of her government, and how eagerly advantage would be taken of the circumstances to stir up dissension and rebellion. Mary replied that her feelings had been so greatly outraged that she was resolved upon vengeance, and that nothing but the Earl's life would satisfy her. "If this is your determination, madam," returned Gardiner, "I predict that the crown will not remain upon your head a month. Though the Earl of Devonshire has grievous ly offended your highness, his crime is not treason. And if you put him to death for this offence, you will alienate the hearts of all subjects." your "Be it so," replied Mary, sternly. "No personal considera tion shall deter me from my just revenge." 44 "Make what preparations you deem fitting, my lord," replied Mary. "In my father's time the people did not dare to resist his decrees, however arbitrary." "The people are no longer what they were, madam, nor are you for I must make bold to say so-in the position, or backed by the power of your dread father. What he did is the princess Elizabeth. Could you avenge yourself upon them no rule for you. I am no advocate for Courtenay-nor for with safety, theugh I should lament it, I would not oppose you. But you cannot do so. Others must bleed at the same time. Remember the Lady Jane Gray and her husband yet live. You will revive their faction-and must of necessity doom them to death to prevent another rebellion. Once begun, there will be no end to bloodshed.” "These are cogent reasons, my lord," returned Mary, after a moment's reflection-"supposing them well founded." "And trust me, they are well-founded, gracious madam," replied the Bishop. "Do not sacrifice your kingdom-do not sacrifice the holy Catholic church which looks to you for support to an insane thirst of vengeance." him earnestly, "you know not how I have loved this man. "Gardiner," replied Mary, taking his hand and looking at Put yourself in my position. How would you act?" "As I am assured your highness would, if you were not under the dominion of passion," replied the Bishop-"forgive him." "I would do so," replied Mary, "but oh! if he were to wed Elizabeth, I should die. I would rather yield them my crown-my life-than consent to their espousals. But I will not think for myself. Arise, my lord. Give me your counsel, and what you recommend I will follow." "Spoken like yourself, gracious madam," replied the Bishop. "I was sure your noble nature could soon triumph over unworthy thoughts. Since your highness thinks it possible Courtenay may wed Elizabeth, I would advise you to detain him for the present a captive in the Tower. But instantly liberate the princess-dismiss her from your court-and let her retire to Ashbridge." "I like your advice well, my lord," replied the Queen, "and will act upon it. The princess shall set out to-day." "I cannot too highly applaud your highness's determination." replied Gardiner; "but as you have spoken thus frankly, may I venture to ask whether the earl's case is utterly hopeless whether, after he has sufficiently felt the weight of your displeasure you will not restore him to your favor to your affections?" Never," replied Mary, firmly, "never. And could you counsel it?" "He is inexperienced, madam," urged the Bishop; "and after this salutary lesson "— "No more, my lord," interrupted the Queen, a shade passing over her features, "it is too late." "Too late!" echoed Gardiner. "Am I to understand your highness has made another engagement?" "You are to understand nothing more than you are told, my lord," replied Mary, angrily. "In due season you shall know all." As Gardiner bowed in acquiescence, he perceived the miniature of Philip of Spain lying on the table, and a sudden apprehension of the truth crossed him. "There is one person upon whom I should chiefly desire your highness's choice not to fall," he said. "And that is-?" interrupted Mary. "Philip of Spain," answered Gardiner. "What objections have you to him, my lord?" demanded the queen, uneasily. "My objections are threefold," rejoined Gardiner. "First, I dislike the tyrannical character of the prince, which would be ill-suited to render your highness's union a happy one.— Secondly, I am assured that the match would be disagreeable to your subjects-the English nation not being able to brook a foreign yoke; and of all denominations none being so intolerable as that of Spain. Thirdly, the alliance would plunge us in endless wars with France-a country that would never tamely submit to such a formidable extension of power, as this would prove, on the part of its old enemy, Charles the Fifth." "If not Philip of Spain, whom would you recommend me?" asked Mary, who was anxious to mislead him. "One of your own nobles," replied Gardiner; "by which means your authority would be unabridged. Whereas, if you wed a prince, odious for his tyranny in the eyes of all Eu rope-" "No more of this my lord," interrupted Mary hastily. "Madam," said Gardiner, "however I may risk displeasing you, I should be wanting in duty, in loyalty, and in sincerity, were I not strongly to warn you against a match with Philip of Spain. It will be fatal to your own happiness-fatal to the welfare of your people." "I have already said it is too late," sighed Mary. "Your Majesty has not affianced yourself to him?" cried Gardiner anxiously. "Question me no further," rejoined Mary. "What is done is done." "Alas! madam," cried Gardiner, "I understand your words too well. You have taken a perilous step, at the instigation of evil counsellors, and under the influence of evil passions. God grant good may come of it." "These are mere surmises on your part, my lord," returned Mary. "I have not told you I have taken any step." But your majesty leads me to infer it," answered the bishop. "For your own sake, and for the sake of your king dom, I trust my fears are unfounded." As he spoke, an usher approached and informed the Queen that the imperial ambassador, Simon Renard, desired an audience. "Admit him," said Mary. "Farewell, my lord," she added, turning to Gardiner; "I will weigh what you have said." "Act upon it, gracious madam, if you can," rejoined the bishop. "But if you are so far committed as to be unable to retreat, count upon my best services to aid you in the difficulty." At this moment Simon Renard entered the audience-chamber, and the expression of his countenance was so exulting, that Gardiner was convinced his conjectures were not far wide of the truth. His first object on quitting the royal presence, was to seek out Feckenham, from whom he succeeded in eliciting the fact of the betrothment in Saint John's chapel; and with a breast full of trouble he returned to his own apartments. On the way thither, he encountered De Noailles. "Well met, my lord," cried the embassador. "I was about to seek you. So, it seems all our projects are ruined. Courtenay is disgraced and imprisoned.' "His folly has destroyed the fairest chance that ever man possessed," observed the bishop. “He is now irretrievably lost." "Not irretrievably, I trust, my good lord," replied De Noailles. "A woman's mind is proverbially changeful. And when this jealous storm is blown over, I doubt not he will again bask in the full sunshine of royal favor. "Your excellency is in the wrong," rejoined Gardiner. "The queen will never forgive him, or, what is equally to be lamented, will never unite herself to him." "You speak confidently, my lord," returned De Noailles gravely. "I trust nothing has occurred to warrant what you say." "M. De Noailles," said the bishop significantly, "look to yourself. The party of France is on the decline. That of Spain is on the ascendant," "What mean you, my lord ?" cried the embassador, eager ly. "Renard has not succeeded in his aim? Mary has not affianced herself to the Prince of Spain ?" "I know nothing positively," replied Gardiner evasively. "I merely throw out the hint. It is for you to follow it up.' "This were a blow, indeed!" cried De Noailles. "But subtle as Renard is, and with all the advantage he has gained, I will yet countermine him." "You shall not want my aid," returned Gardiner, "provided you hatch no treason against the Queen. And that you may the better know how to act, learn that her Majesty is affianced to Philip of Spain." "Curses on the crafty Spaniard!" exclaimed De Noailles, furiously. "But I will yet defeat him." "The Princess Elizabeth will be liberated to-day, and sent with a strong guard to Ashbridge," remarked Gardiner. "Courtenay will be kept a prisoner in the Tower." "We must find means to liberate him," rejoined the em bassador. "In this you must proceed without my aid," said the bishop. "If it be possible to reinstate the earl in Mary's favor, it shall be done. But I can take no part in aiding his flight." "Leave it to me, my lord," rejoined De Noailles. "All I require is your voice with the Queen." "That you may rely on," answered the bishop. With this they separated; Gardiner proceeding to his own apartments, and De Noailles bending his steps towards the green, debating with himself, as he wended thither, what course it would be best to pursue in the emergency. Nothing occurred to him but expedients so hazardous that he instantly dismissed them. While resolving these matters, as he walked to and fro beneath the avenue, he was accosted by Xit, who, doffing his cap, and making a profcund bow, inquired whether the rumor was correct that the Earl of Devonshire had incurred the Queen's displeasure, and was imprisoned. Ay, marry is it," replied De Noailles. "I am truly concerned to hear it," replied the mannikia; "and I make no doubt his lordship's disgrace is owing to the machinations of his mortal foe, Simon Renard." "Thou art in the right," replied De Noailles. "And let it be known throughout the Tower that this is the case." "I will not fail to spread it among my fellows," replied Xit. "But none can lament it more than myself. I would lay down my life for his lordship.” "Indeed!" exclaimed De Noailles. "This knave may be useful," he muttered. "Harkee, sirrah! Canst thou de vise some safe plan by which a letter may be conveyed to the earl, who is imprisoned in the lieutenant's lodgings ?" |